Task Force 141: The Four Horsemen
by Shockeye7665
Summary: 2011. Russia is in the midst of it's Second Civil War with Imran Zakhaev's Ultranationalists against the Russian Government. And in the country of Azerdistan, Khaled Al-Asad is in a position to threaten the maritime trade routes. The SAS, Delta Force and DEVGRU have to work together to prevent the world from being plunged into nuclear fire. Part of the Task Force 141 series.
1. The World's In Great Shape

**Disclaimer: Call of Duty and Medal of Honor do not belong to me. They belong to their respective owners, namely Activision and Electronic Arts.**

* * *

 _Quarters of Lieutenant Commander Malcolm 'Mother' Richardson, Virginia Beach, Virginia, United States of America_.  
 _September 14th, 2011_.

A knock on the door of his house, diverted Malcolm and Mary Richardson's attention away from the television.

But before Malcolm made an effort to get himself off his seat, Mary said, "I'll get it".  
And before he could say anything, Mary was already making her way to the front door.

Moments later, he could hear the front door open, and Mary exclaim, "Ah, Chris, it's so good to see you! Come in!"  
The resonant, dusty voice of Christopher Goodman, who was also known simply as 'Dusty', echoed through as the two of them greeted each other, "You two, Mary. And, as promised, some gifts for you and Malcolm, for your anniversary".  
The sound of rustling, meaning that Mary was now being handed a plastic bag full of gifts from Dusty, for her and Malcolm's upcoming wedding anniversary on the 17th, followed by "Oh, thank you, Chris".

And before long, the familiar form of the former Ranger and Delta operator turned CIA officer, was now standing in the doorway to the living room.

Malcolm diverted his attention from the television, to take a good look at Dusty, who was around 5"9' tall, even after acquiring the right prosthetic leg from losing his right leg to an IED in Baghdad in '07, still bearing a really large beard, and sunglasses that he hooked onto his shirt.

Remembering why his friend was here, Malcolm said, "Hey Dusty, you're just right on time".  
Smiling, Dusty indicated his head towards the telly and, after a pause, asked, "Anything interesting on there, brother?"  
A glance back at the telly, before he replied, "Not really".

Mary, who was now in the kitchen, then asked, "Can I get you anything, Chris?"  
Dusty then turned his head to the kitchen and said, "No thanks, Mary, I'll be fine", before turning to Mother and indicating his head towards the back, "Come, let's go into the garden. We'll talk some more with some drinks".

Then, as Dusty moved to the kitchen, Malcolm got up and followed him, telling him "You get the bottles, I'll get the glasses".

* * *

Sitting down on the garden chairs, by the garden table, Dusty and Mother with their glasses of beer, began idle conversation amongst themselves, chatting about interesting news happening in regards to the SEALs or Delta and reminiscing about old times.

But the reminiscing stopped whenever they breached on the memories on events in the Shahi-Kot Valley, or more specifically, Takur Ghar, which brought up memories of "Rabbit".

So, instead, Mother changed the topic, onto some news that he heard about an old friend of his.

"So, Dusty, I hear some interesting news in regards to someone from Wolfpack. Or mainly, two someones, actually".  
This raised an eyebrow, "Oh?"  
"I hear that Panther's in the running for command, over at the Unit".

Dusty nodded, at the mention of his former commanding officer, Kevin "Panther" McClane, "Ah yeah, I heard that one. He's done a stellar job, and rightfully deserves to run Delta".  
"How did he get his name in the running for that?"  
"Well, Old Man Marcello's thinking about retiring after the new year and the other Squadron leaders, well, have had their names thrown into the hat in line for command. But Panther's the one who's more likely to acquire it".

"And I also hear, that Vegas is now team leader?"  
"Yeah, Team Jackal. In Panther's Squadron, same as Wolfpack".

Silence fell as the two operators looked up towards the night sky of the evening.  
Then Dusty asked on how Mother's teammates were doing.

Mother smiled, "Yeah, great. Voodoo's still the same as usual. Preacher and Lena had a great holiday with Isabella and Michael down in Italy. Rodeo's got a new girlfriend..."  
An eyebrow rose, "New girlfriend?", followed by a nod to the head, "Yeah, new girlfriend number three".

"And you've got a new guy, I hear. Rat, right?"  
"Yeah, Adrian Wilkes. Just passed the OTC four months ago, and we're showing him the ropes".  
"He doing well?"  
"Marvellous. Fits right into Neptune just fine. But of course, I'm not gonna tell him that. Might inflate his head".

Dusty chuckled, and silence fell again, until Mother asked, out of curiosity, "So, Dusty, any news that you could share? Off the record?"

At this, Dusty fidgeted a bit, and stroked his beard for a good long while, which was quite uncharacteristic behaviour from him, Mother noted, until his friend finally spoke up, "Hmmm, well, I do hear that some people upstairs are starting to keep an eye on Azerdistan".  
That was certainly one of the many places that Mother was not expecting next week's latest headline on the news, and Mother's face displayed his surprise, "That small little country over in the Arabian Peninsular? Why?"  
"Well, we've been hearing chatter amongst our esteemed friends in the NSA, that someone known only as the 'Orchestrator', is about to make a move of some sort against the President, Yasir Al-Fulani".  
"Sounds mysterious. Any possible leads on who this 'Orchestrator' is?"  
Dusty shook his head, "Too many, unfortunately. Even though Al-Fulani is an, alright, President, so to speak, he's not at all popular with some of his government and the military, so it's a bit of a long list, brother".  
"Damn. Well, what's so interesting about this 'Orchestrator' that put him on the NSA's radar?"  
"Nothing that I can tell you at the moment, other than that he's got backing from some really shady guys who are calling themselves, the 'Horsemen'".

Mother raised an eyebrow at that,  
"Horsemen? As in, like, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?"  
Dusty shrugged, "Well, whoever they are, I couldn't tell you much about them, even if I wanted to, because, we've only just recently received this intelligence, and they're shady as hell. Gonna be some time before we do some digging and find out more about them. But still, I'll give you the heads up if anything comes that might involve you and Neptune".  
"Gotcha".

A long pause afterwards came, until Mother asked, "So, any news on whenever we're going to need to fix that mess up in Russia?"  
Dusty gave his friend a hard look, before sighing, "Well, 30,000 nukes at stake and Russia still wants to deal with this civil war by themselves".  
"Seriously?"  
"Dead serious. We always keep offering help to the Russians, but, erm, well, I dunno. There's at least, some talk of allowing a special ops force of American, British and NATO forces into Russia, but no definite word on whenever that'll be reality".

And as Dusty let Mother sink that news in, it was a while, until he asked,  
"Say, speaking of Brits, do you still keep in contact with a certain Captain, Mother?"

He knew what, or whom, Dusty was talking about, remembering the British captain who other than sporting one of the most impressive beard/moustache combinations that could give Dusty's beard a run for it's money, was known as a larger-than-life legend amongst the Special Ops community, across the world.  
Dusty and Mother knew this all too well, having worked with the Captain in Afghanistan and Iraq since 2001, several times.

But in response to Dusty's query, Mother gave him an earnest answer, "Not since Kandahar last year. Why?"  
Dusty shrugged, simply saying, "Just wondering. I haven't seen or heard from Price since '06 in Kabul. Would like to know how he's doing nowadays".

* * *

 _Commanding Officer's Office, Stirling Lines, Hereford, Herefordshire, England, Great Britain, United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland_.  
 _September 14th, 2011_.

Lieutenant Colonel Henry Newhouse, Commanding Officer of 22 Regiment Special Air Service, looked up from his desk towards the knocks on his door.

Knowing who it was, before glancing to his guest who was also in his office, Newhouse shouted, "Come in!"

The door opened, to reveal Captain John Price, who was ever sporting his handlebar moustache and beard combination.  
The Colonel smiled, "Ah, John, come in, come in".  
Price nodded, "Sir", before entering the office, and asking, "You sent for me, sir?"  
"Yes, I did, John. On behalf of a friend of yours, I might add".

Raising an eyebrow, Captain Price then looked around the office, to see a familiar figure standing in the corner.

Price smiled, "Kenneth!"  
His old mentor and friend, Kenneth MacMillan, now a Major General, and the Director Special Forces, thus making him the foremost senior military official in command of UKSF, smiled back, "Hey, John. Great to see you!"  
"You two, Kenneth".

Then, MacMillan turned his head towards Newhouse, and said, "Hey, Henry, bring up some chairs for us, would you?"  
"Sure".

And before long, the two of them (Henry left after a Lieutenant summoned him on behalf of the RSM) sat down and began catching up, with MacMillan stating, "Hope that mission in Murzuq wasn't too difficult for you".  
Price shook his head, "Nah, it was just another day in the office".  
MacMillan chuckled, before Price then asked, "So what brings you down to Hereford? You getting bored of boardroom meetings in Whitehall?"

Another chuckle and, "You know, every time I have to listen to some nitwit from the MOD who thinks he knows everything about our world, I remember the time when you told me to never leave the field, for it's truly the time when you feel dead".  
Price grinned, "Still don't want to change your mind, get yourself back down to Captain? Be just like old times".

Kenneth shook his head and said, "Well, as much fun as that would be, I am not as young as I used to be, not to say that I couldn't try the Pen-y-Fan once in a while, but quite frankly, I'm a bit too old to go charging into gunfire".  
Price paused, before he shrugged, "Fair enough, Mac".

And silence fell, for a good two minutes, until Price asked his mentor, "So, any news on whenever we'll get some sort of deployment into Russia? I know that the Ultranationalists are gonna start winning that war if nothing's done soon..."  
MacMillan held up a hand and nodded, saying, "I agree with you, but all I know, is that the Foreign Office, and the State Department, are still working out some of the details with the Russian Foreign Ministry, so no word on that, I'm afraid".

Price grimaced, muttering under his breath about how politicians will be the death of them all, until Newhouse came back after his business with the RSM.

Then suddenly, MacMillan got up and took his leave, saying, "Well, I would love to say a little bit longer, but I have to get back to the boring world of Whitehall, otherwise I'll be very much missed. Great to see you, John".  
Captain Price nodded, "And to you, Kenneth. Give my regards to Gillan when you see her".  
"Will do".

And the Director Special Forces left both the Captain and the Lieutenant Colonel to it, heading out to get to his car and head back to London.  
Then, Newhouse then gathered up a folder from his desk and handed to Price, "Oh, and I just ought to let you know, you and Air Troop have a new guy coming in. Fresh off selection. Former Sergeant in 3 PARA. Here's his record".

Taking it, Price opened it up, to reveal the face of one John MacTavish, and began reading through the details of MacTavish's military career.

* * *

 _Firing Range, Stirling Lines, Hereford, Herefordshire, England, Great Britain, United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland_.  
 _September 14th, 2011_.

The doors to the firing range opened and in came a 6"2' tall, mohawked Scot, who looked around and saw many operators at the firing stations, firing away at the targets, before he continued on and headed towards the counter, where a young man in the new MTP uniform was typing away on his laptop at such a rapid pace.

Stopping before the man, former Sergeant now turned Trooper John MacTavish coughed his throat and got the man's attention, "Erm, excuse me".

Immediately, the young man looked up and brightened up, "Ah, Trooper. Glad to have you here. The name's Lootz. Just fresh off Selection, I'm correct?"

"That's right. I'm to be in, Air Troop of A Squadron?...", before 'Lootz' nodded his head, "Yes. Captain Price's unit. Unfortunately, Price is meeting the Colonel at the moment. However, his second, Gaz, will be with you in a bit. He's just over at the Killing House, so it might be a while before he gets here. But when he' does, he'll give you the tour, show you the ropes. So if you could just wait here for a bit, that'll be great".

Seeing a chair to the side, MacTavish sat down, and waited for this 'Gaz' to arrive, trying utterly hard to pass the time with an out-of-date copy of _The Daily Mirror_ , only for him to get so bored, that he got up and asked Lootz, "Actually, will anyone mind if I go down to the range and get some practice in?"  
He shook his head, "Nah, go for it. More practice, the better I say. Which weapons do you want?"

Not a usual question that was asked in the Army, but MacTavish still asked, "What have you got?"  
Lootz stood up and indicated towards the weapons mounted on the wall behind his counter, "Well, the heaviest we'll give you here is an assault rifle, but we do have submachine guns and pistols".

Taking a look, MacTavish could see a bunch of empty spaces.  
A good chunk of Heckler & Koch MP5s were missing, presumably currently being used in the firing ranges.  
And there were no SiG Sauers or even a Browning.

But there looked to be a bunch of Glocks, as well as M1911s, Walthers and a pistol with a tactical light.

Then looking at the assault rifles, he found himself laying eyes on the M4 Carbine.

When he was ready, MacTavish indicated the weapons to Lootz, "I'll take that pistol with that tactical light and that carbine over there".  
"Ah, the Heckler & Koch USP and the Colt Canada C8SFW, right?"

Lootz caught MacTavish's blank look and explained, "Yeah, we don't use M4s. We use the Colt Canada C8, or in army speak, the L119".

Then he got up and got the weapons, handing the empty-weapons over to MacTavish, before saying, "Just sign off on here for them", indicating to a sheet of paper that he now had in his hands and held to MacTavish, who put down the weapons and then got a pen and signed in the places that Lootz indicated to.

Afterwards, MacTavish noticed that Lootz still hadn't handed him a magazine or two, but thankfully, the man anticipated his next question and handed him around 4 magazines for each weapon, before saying, "Alright, just head down to an empty firing station, down on the range, and you're good to go".  
"Thanks".

But before he could set off, Lootz stopped him, and handed him some yellow foam earplugs and ballistic goggles into MacTavish's hands, before sitting back down and continuing to type on his laptop.

MacTavish then got himself and his weapons down to the nearest, emptiest firing station, which had the number 4 above it.  
Putting down his weapons on a tabletop, MacTavish then saw the ear-muffs hanging on a hook, and got them off, before rolling the earplugs to compress them and then fitting them into his ears, before putting the ear-muffs on, which instantly muffled the sounds of gunshots all around him.  
Then, he slapped on the goggles onto his head, and over his eyes, before getting a paper target, and putting it on a rack above him, pressing the button to extend the target out to halfway, before then getting his weapons and loading a magazine into each of them.

Putting down his pistol on the tabletop in front of him, MacTavish then held out his Colt Canada C8SFW, which had no optical sights, but did have iron sights.  
And after checking over the weapon, MacTavish then got into position, counted 'one, two, three', before bringing up his weapon and firing.

* * *

Then, MacTavish stopped when he heard, faintly, on the loudspeaker, " _Station 4, cease fire and make safe your weapon. I repeat, station 4, cease fire and make safe your weapon_ ".

Putting on the safety catch, before pulling back the bolt of his C8 and catching the unfired round from the chamber with his hand, and then releasing the magazine, Soap put the weapon down and got his pistol, doing the same procedure.

Putting them all down on the tabletop, MacTavish pulled off his ballistic goggles, earmuffs and earplugs, to hear the sound of clapping, before someone spoke behind him, in a distinct Londoner accent.  
"Quite a smooth sidearm transition, MacTavish. Very impressive".

Turning around, MacTavish saw the leaning form of a brown-haired, green-eyed man with a faint beard wearing a baseball cap and a tactical vest over a sweater and MTP trousers and non-regulation boots, who looked like he had been observing MacTavish's performance on the range for quite a while.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Lieutenant Gavin Franks. But you can call me 'Gaz' for short".

Then the name clicked in MacTavish's head, "Oh, you're the 'Gaz' who's supposed to take me on a tour, show me the ropes, well, according to Lootz over there", indicating over to the man behind the counter, who was still there.

'Gaz' nodded his head, and said, "But I must say, a bit of a great start, if you can shoot like that".  
"Sir?"  
At MacTavish's query, Gaz headed over to station 4, then pressed the button to bring the paper target back. Once it arrived, he tore it off the rack, to point it out to the new Trooper, "I mean, those groupings. Those sort of groupings, usually we have to wait a few weeks or months of training to get newbies fresh off selection to get those groupings. But you look like a quick learner, so you'll be fitting in well, when we get to be the CT Squadron".  
"Thank you, sir".

Soon turning his head over to Lootz, Gaz shouted to him, "Hey, Lootz! Me and MacTavish will be on our way, Put away his weapons, will you?"

And without waiting for an confirmation, Gaz led on, and MacTavish followed him, towards the doors to the outside of the firing range, just as Lootz was now making his way towards firing station 4.  
Once outside, MacTavish asked, "Why's his name Lootz, sir?"  
Gaz chuckled, "Yeah, that's an old nickname from civvie life. Stuck with him right even in the Regiment. Apparently, he joined the Army after getting into bother with the Police, and that nickname is in reference to the loots of stolen goods he used to nick. As in Loots, but with a Zed. Get it, MacTavish?"  
"Yes sir".

But as MacTavish continued following Gaz, he then asked, "So, where we off too, Leftenant?"  
"First things first, as part of showing you the ropes in the Regiment, I'm taking you on a visit to Sergeant Newcastle, who'll give you a lesson in demolitions. Then, you'll meet Watson, who'll give you a lesson in various specialist weaponry. Corporal Quinn is going to give you a crash course in signals. Then Corporal Branagan will teach you some medical training. And finally, you'll meet the rest of the Troop, who'll be at the Killing House".  
"Understood, sir".  
"And one thing, you might want to ease off on the 'sir, yes sir'. You may be still fresh from the Paras, but trust me, we don't go for a lot of that rank and file stuff that the Regular Army worships. Just call me Gaz. Gaz is fine".

Silence fell, as MacTavish followed Gaz towards wherever he was going, and this silence persisted for a good long while, until he could see a slight grin form, and then, "Say, I want to ask you something, MacTavish, if you don't mind".  
"Sure. Ask away".

A pause and, then, out of the blue, "how did you get a name like Soap, anyway?"

 _Oh, for the love of_...

* * *

 **And so it begins.**

 **Here is the first proper instalment of the Task Force 141 series, an adaptation of Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare.  
** **So, be prepared with familiar aspects of the game, but don't expect it to be too much of a carbon copy.**

 **But there will be a Cargo Ship, there will be Marines, there will be War Pig, there will be AC-130s and there will be a farm, that much I can promise you, and many more.**

 **Anyways, don't forget to leave a review whenever you can, and see you next time!**


	2. What Kind Of Name Is Soap?

**Disclaimer: Call of Duty and Medal of Honor do not belong to me. They belong to their respective owners, namely Activision and Electronic Arts.**

* * *

 _Stirling Lines, Hereford, Herefordshire, England, Great Britain, United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland_.  
 _September 14th, 2011_.

The walk towards the demolitions course seemed to take forever, as Trooper John 'Soap' MacTavish shared with Lieutenant Gavin 'Gaz' Franks the origins of the 'most infamous nickname in the whole Army' (or at least, that was how Soap put it).

The result, had left a pause in the Lieutenant, before he laughed outrageously and hard.  
And he continued this as he continued leading Soap to the demolitions course.

"Well, that's got to be one of the most funniest stories I've ever heard, Soap!"  
Under the impression that Gaz was just messing with him, Soap stated, "Nah, you've heard funnier, Gaz. I'm sure of it".  
Gaz shook his head, "No, no, serious! Just, the fact that you accidentally squeezed a bar of soap in your hands, three times I might add, at Catterick, man that had to have been a sight to see!"  
Soap, sighing as he remembered the day he got the infamous nickname that sent fellow squaddies, and even a few Ruperts, snickering, merely nodded before saying, "If you say so".

Soon enough, Gaz and Soap reached the demolitions course, which was basically consisted of a safety pit, along with empty concrete buildings with open windows nearby, wrecked cars on a small field, targets surrounded by sandbags, and some intact cars, as well as a wooden table quite a distance from the safety pit with grenades and explosives on it.

The man behind it, smiled up at Gaz and greeted him in a Yorkshire accent, "Hey, Gaz. Great to see ya, mate".  
Shaking the man's hand, Gaz smiled back, "Hey Lew. You got the course all set up and everything?"  
"All ready to go, just waiting for our FNG, so to speak".

Gaz then turned his head and indicated for Soap, who was standing off to the side, to come a bit closer.  
"Right. Here's Trooper Soap MacTavish".  
An eyebrow raised and, "Soap?"

Soap grimaced a bit, and just simply said, "Long story. You must be Sergeant Newcastle".  
A grin, "Right you are, young Soap", before beckoning him closer and extending his hand.

Soap took it and after shaking hands, Sergeant Newcastle then went, "Alright then. Let's get ourselves acquainted with these lovely beauties on the table, Soap", before indicating to a set of fragmentation grenades and asking, "You know how to use these, right?"

He nodded, which prompted Newcastle to nod his head back and say, "Well then, next to them, you see those? They are operated on the same principle, only that they do a different thing. Can you tell me what they are?"  
"Flashbangs"  
"Well, that's one name for them, but mainly, they're called stun grenades. Later, you'll be getting a first hand demonstration of these at the Killing House. But firstly, shall I draw your attention to these beauties?", indicating to several blocks of plastic explosive and a green rectangular convex case with a wire attached to a handheld firing device.

Newcastle asked Soap on what exactly they were, and he answered correctly.  
"C4 plastic explosives. And an Claymore".

Gaz nodded approvingly, and Newcastle stated his approval also, "Very good, Soap!", before moving straight towards the safety pit, with Gaz beckoning Soap to the safety pit, where before him, was a G36 rifle with an familiar underslung grenade launcher.

Newcastle then indicated to the rifle, and asked, "So, I assume that you know how to operate the L17 underslung grenade launcher?"

Remembering his time in Iraq and Afghanistan with the Paras, Soap nodded his head, before Gaz then came (after putting down some C4, claymores and frag grenades) and gave the rifle to Soap and pointed out to the targets ahead of him.

"Alright, basically, what we want you to do Soap, is to fire off one magazine from the rifle on the targets on the ground, then once that's done, there are some targets within the windows and doorways of those concrete buildings which we want you to target with the grenade launcher. Just so to give us a first hand look of what you're made of".

Taking the rifle in his hands, Soap put the buttstock up against his shoulder, then aimed down the iron sights at the targets, landing hits on the torso, the neck area and the head, before propping up the sights of the grenade launcher, adjusting the angle as he aimed the grenade launcher, and then shouting "Firing!".

Then, he pulled the trigger on the grenade launcher, and the 40x46mm High Explosive round propelled itself out through the tube of the grenade launcher and managed to land squarely behind the propped up targets.  
When the round exploded, the force of the explosion sent them crashing down forwards, to the side and backwards, whilst shrapnel shredded through the paper.

At first, there was the silence of the aftermath, before whistling came afterwards.  
Turning around, Soap could see that Gaz looked very impressed, nodding his head at the display.  
"Not bad Soap. Not bad, at all".  
"Why thank you, Gaz".

But niceties were put aside, as Gaz then said,  
"Now then, I want to see how well you do with a bunch of C4 and a Claymore", before nodding his head to one of the cars in the course and telling Soap to plant some C4 on the car, before pointing to a set of targets and telling him to plant a Claymore in front of the targets.

Getting the C4 and the Claymore, Soap then headed out to the car first, and once he got there, he started putting the C4 in certain positions that would guarantee the vehicle's destruction, then inserting detonators into the blocks of C4.  
With the C4 done, it was time for the Claymore and he moved in front of a set of targets where he propped up the scissor legs and pointed the front of the mine (embossed with FRONT TOWARDS ENEMY) towards the targets, before setting it down on a nice set of flat ground in front of the targets, then unwrapping the wire connected to the clanker.

And once he was within the safety pit, Newcastle shouted, "Fire in the hole!"

Firstly, Soap triggered the C4 and an loud explosion erupted, with the sound of wrecked metal screeching following afterwards then landing on the floor with several loud thuds.

A brief moment of silence followed afterwards, then Soap squeezed the trigger to the clanker, and the Claymore detonated.

In the aftermath, Soap, Gaz and Newcastle all looked upon the results, the flaming, wrecked car and the shredded paper targets, in silence until the moment was broken with a smile from Gaz, "Ah. Music to my ears. Nicely done, Soap".

* * *

After leaving Sergeant Newcastle to clean up the aftermath of the demolitions course, Gaz then took him onwards to meet Corporal Watson, who was standing behind a table with a wide assortment of firearms and other special weapons.

The Corporal, who was checking over a LMG, then noticed Soap and Gaz, immediately putting the weapon down before heading over to greet them.

The Corporal, who had curly brown hair, in addition to grey eyes, smiled and greeted Soap with a handshake, "Ah, good to meet you, young Soap".  
"And to you as well, Corporal".  
"Please, just call me Watsy".

Then Gaz coughed slightly before asking, "So, Watsy, what do you have for us?"

'Watsy' then drew his attention onto the table, and indicated to the many weapons on it, "On this table, are basically the most popular shopping items for insurgencies and terrorists across the world. While we may be using non-standard to the British Armed Forces whilst on operations, there are times in which fine weapons such as those, will not be at hand, and thus we need to be ready to pick up a weapon buried in the sand, or propped up against some wall in a ruined building in a war-torn country".

Firstly there were the pistols and Corporal Watson started to introduce every one of them to Soap.  
"TT-33. WW2 vintage. But still able to pack a punch, and can still work whatever is thrown at it. Definitely not something to shrug off".  
"Makarov PM. Perfect concealed firearm for undercover ops. Not so much for the field. You might need to get up close and personal if you ever want to obtain a hit with this baby".  
"CZ 75. Widely used around the world. There are some select fire versions that make a great machine pistol if you want additional rate of fire".  
"Skorpion Vz. 61. Looks very much like a submachine gun, but it's actually a machine pistol. Has a folding stock that makes it perfect for concealing it in undercover ops".

Then, Watson led Soap over to the submachine guns,  
"Sa Vz. 25. An old Czechoslovakian submachine gun that still pops up in an odd conflict every now and there".  
"Uzi. One of the most popular models of submachine gun in the world. Quite popular in the Americas".  
"Beretta M12. And the Walther MP. Some pretty old submachine guns that still finds itself some use".  
"MP 40. I know, I know, it's really WW2 vintage, but we do get the occasional one pop up in some conflict somewhere".  
"PPSh-41. Another WW2 vintage that finds itself in the hands of irregular military somewhere around the world".

Afterwards, Soap was given a tour on a bunch of different variety of AKs, as Watson picked up one and started indicating to each one,  
"AK-47. Just absolutely one of the most reliable weapons on the planet. I don't think I need to say more about that".  
"AKM. An slightly improved version of the AK-47, but otherwise, still works just as well, even in the most harshest of conditions".  
"AKS-74U carbine. A shortened version of the AKS-74, and the Soviet version of the Colt Commando. Perfect for much more close quarters combat than the standard AK would be".  
"Type 56 assault rifle. The Chinese version of the AK-47. You can always tell it apart from an AK by it's fully enclosed hooded front sight, and folding spike bayonet".  
"Vz. 58 assault rifle. Okay, while it looks like an AK-47, it's actually rather a different design altogether, based on a short-stoke gas piston operation rather than the AK's gas operated rotating bolt and thus, it shares no parts with it, not even the magazine".

Next came squad automatic weapons,  
"RPD. A supremely old LMG that can only fire in full automatic. So, always fire in short bursts as so not to wear the barrel out".  
"RPK. The LMG version of the AK that not only can use it's 40-round magazine, but can accept the 75-round drum magazine and even the standard AK magazine".  
"PK. The closest thing to the Soviets have to the Jimpy. A really rugged, tough weapon that can either use non-distentigrating metal belts fed into the weapon from the right, rather than our left-side feeding system, or the PK can use 100 and 250 round ammunition boxes. Can be fired from it's standard bi-pod, or can be fitted onto a tripod".

After that, sniper rifles and other rifles.  
"Dragunov. More of a designated marksman rifle than a true sniper rifle, but still effective as a sniper rifle".  
"Mosin-Nagant. A five-round bolt-action rifle that has origins going all the way back to the Russian Empire. A favourite of Soviet snipers in WW2, it's also popular with insurgents everywhere".  
"Lee-Enfield. A vintage from WW1, that's still popular around the Kyber Pass area, and still used in Afghanistan by the Taliban".  
"SKS. A semi-automatic rifle that can be fitted with a sniper's scope. Contains a folding bayonet as well".

Then, rocket propelled grenades.  
"RPG-7. Number one most popular anti-vehicle weapon in all the world's most popular hot spots. Syria, Somalia, Sudan, Libya, Colombia, Iraq, Afghanistan, you name it, it's there. Even though, it does have one hell of a kick and accuracy is shoddy at best. So, always watch out for the wind speed and direction".  
"RPG-18. A one-shot rocket-propelled grenade that is the Soviet equivalent to the M72 LAW. Simply, aim, fire, then throw away".  
"RPG-22. Another one-shot rocket launcher, this one being a bit of an improvement from the RPG-18".  
"RPG-29. This one is not, I repeat, not to be underestimated. This weapon is deadly enough to take on modern tanks, so a deadly weapon that we find amongst irregular forces across the world".

Then, Anti-tank missiles.  
"AT-3 Sagger. Man-portable, wire guided anti-tank missile. A deadly weapon with a maximum range of 3,000 meters, but still requires a bit of skill to master. You need to constantly be alert at all times, operating this. It isn't a fire-and-forget weapon, so remember that".  
"AT-4 Spigot. As it is a semi-automatic command to line of sight, rather than the Sagger's manual command to line of sight, it's much more easier to use than the Sagger, and packs a heavier punch".  
"AT-14 Spriggan. One of the latest of Russia's anti-tank guided missiles, it is guided by a laser beam so a bit much easier to handle than wire-guidance".

And finally, Anti-air missiles.  
"SA-7 Grail. Even though the performance does really suck on this, upgraded variants do have much more reliability and it can be very deadly to helicopters".  
"SA-16 Gimlet. Very much the successor to the SA-7, it is much improved and much deadlier".

With that done, Watsy had Soap bring out a selection of these weapons to the outdoor firing range, where he was told to handle the weapons and demonstrate safe operating procedures with the weapon.

The pistols were pretty straight forward, submachine guns too, and the AKs. Light machine guns, the rifles, the RPGs, anti-tank missiles and anti-air missiles needed a bit more instruction, but eventually, Soap got the hang of it and made a good show of handling each one.

After that, Gaz clapped his hands slowly, before nodding his head impressively at Soap and congratulating him, patting his shoulder.  
"Very impressive Soap. Looks like we'll be making an operator out of you yet".

Then, Gaz indicated for Soap to follow him, adding,  
"Now, I believe Corporal Quinn will be giving you a quick rundown on signals".

* * *

 _A desert area just off an offroad track near a desert plain in Northwest Azerdistan_.  
 _September 14th, 2011_.

A convoy of 4 Toyota Land Cruiser technicals with DShK machine guns and SPG-9 recoilless guns on the back, 2 Mercedes Benz Unimog trucks with a contingent of troops in the back, and 3 UAZ-469 jeeps had just turned off from their offroad track in the middle of the desert, and were now in an area where no one would take vehicles.

Not unless you had a reason to do so, as this convoy did.

After 2 minutes of traveling down this route, the convoy then stopped, with the soldiers offloading from the trucks, and the technicals taking up defensive positions.

While the squads of soldiers taking up positions in places indicated by their squad leaders, some soldiers with shoulder-launched SAMs stood at the ready, ever alert as planes and helicopters from the government were known to pop up unannounced and unleash serious damage.  
And needless to say, a lot of preparation had been put into arranging this meeting, so everyone was on constant alert.

Everyone present, looked uneasily towards the sky, knowing that the US had it's spy satellites and it's infamous drones, ready to spot them, notify their puppet Al-Fulani and send someone to undo all their hard work, if they were not careful.

Hence the reason that once the helicopter landed, their guests would be instantly getting in the jeeps, and everyone would drive away from the landing site as quickly as they could, not wasting time with greetings that could be saved for later.

A few minutes, and soon, the helicopter arrived.  
Everyone had tensed up when they heard it, initially thinking that it was a government helicopter, or an American special ops helicopter, but things calmed when they saw the helicopter, an white MD 500E with no identification markings, which they knew was the helicopter that they had been expecting.

Making a rapid descent, the helicopter landed and out came their guests.  
Vladimir Romanovich Makarov, Yuri Mikhailovich Vatutin and Lev Kravchenko.

Immediately, they rushed to the jeeps, and the helicopter took off, heading off to await the call to come back and pick up it's three passengers.

Getting in the jeeps, Vladimir was now in the back seat, next to the one whom he had arranged to meet.  
Khaled Al-Asad.

The man in question, smiled at his guest, "Vladimir".  
Makarov did not smile, but did greet back with a simple, "Khaled", before going straight to business, "Imran sends his greetings and apologies that he can't be here in person".

Al-Asad nodded his head and said, "I understand. He must be a very busy man, going up against the government loyalists".  
"Yes. Even more so. The government forces have just fended off an attempt to take Saratov, and we are being pushed deeper back towards Kyzyl".

Conversation would have gone on, until they arrived at a small airfield, and everyone got out.  
Al-Asad and Makarov exited the vehicle and made for a small barracks to have their discussion, accompanied by Yuri, Kravchenko and Khaled Al-Asad's second in command, General Nasir Ayad.

Inside, a table had been set, with a map of the entire country of Azerdistan laid down on it.

Crowding around the table, they then got straight to business, with Al-Asad stating his progress.  
"So, as you can see, I have my forces ready to move down the highway towards the capital. A contingent of helicopter troops will be flying in, presumably under the cover of being government troops. Then once they are in the capital, they will then open the gates to the city, hopefully, just in time for my forces to move towards the capital. And just as my forces arrive at the gates, all Al-Fulani can simply do, is delay the inevitable".

* * *

 _Stirling Lines, Hereford, Herefordshire, England, Great Britain, United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland_.  
 _September 14th, 2011_.

After the rundown in signals with Corporal Quinn, Soap was now getting a rundown (More like, a short refresher, in Soap's mind) on medical training with Corporal Branagan.

And after demonstrating what to do in various situations, on the patient (which happened to be Gaz, much to his slight amusement), Quinn was pretty impressed with what he had just seen, "Alright, very good Soap. Looks like you learned a thing or two from the Paras".  
"Yeah, and did some great work with what I learned up in Sangin and Basra".

But before Soap could say anything more, Gaz got up and cut into their conversation, "As entertaining as this all is, I think it's time we introduce Soap to the Killing House. The rest of the guys'll be there. Time to introduce you to them, Soap".

* * *

The Killing House, the infamous building where the Special Air Service's Counter Revolutionary Warfare wing ensured that that their counter-terrorism skills were sharpened and refined.  
Inside, was what seemed to be the interior of an ordinary house. Chairs, tables, cutlery, plates, glasses, candles, clocks, sofas, television sets, picture frames and curtains, you name it, it was there.  
But what made this building stand out, was that the walls were coated with rubber, in order to absorb the impact of the live bullets used in every exercise, a pop-up metal and paper target of either 'tangos' or civilians was in every room, put in different places each time by the instructors, and that there were video cameras in each room and extractor fans in the building the clear out the fumes of gunfire.

Outside the building, Air Troop assembled out front as Soap was introduced by Gaz to every single one of it's members, save Captain Price, who was 'with the Colonel', when Gaz asked where he was.

Introductions began, and apart from Sergeant Newcastle, whom he had already met, there was Staff Sergeant Peter Hawkins, a former Colour in the Coldstream Guardsman who still had not lost the ability to scream across a parade ground, it seemed to Soap.  
Sergeant Ian-Lloyd Jones, a former Fusilier from Wales, and a former Bombardier of the Royal Artillery by the name and rank of Corporal Thomas Paulsen.  
Lance Corporal Craig Wallcroft, and Lance Corporal Michael Griffen, both formerly of the Royal Corps of Transport.  
And finally, Lance Corporal Dominic Matthews, a former soldier in the Rifles who was the newest one in Air Troop before Soap's arrival.

But then, introductions were cut short, when a strong, authoritative voice, with every ounce of no-nonsense and confidence in it, cut in.  
"Alright everyone, enough chit-chat, we better get ourselves ready for another date with the Killing House. C'mon lads, we best be getting a move on, before we meet the new lad".

Turning around, Soap found the owner to that voice, and knew that this was Captain Price, his new Commanding Officer.  
Around 6"0' tall, the man cut an formidable figure, so much so that he could be standing in a busy crowd and everyone would knew where he was. But what Soap was more focused on, was his rather impressive beard/moustache combination.

Captain John Price, who was marching towards the Killing House and moving past Air Troop, expecting them to follow, stopped, realising that everyone was dead silent.  
Turning around, his eyes laid upon Soap, for a good long while as he slowly moved to inspect him.  
And then, he asked, "And who is this?"

Gaz came up right next to him, and said, "It's the FNG, sir".  
Hawkins added to that, "Trooper John MacTavish...", before being cut off by the Captain, "Yes, I know who he is, Hawkins".

A pause as he then moved closer to Soap, who stood still under the Captain's inspecting gaze that could melt butter.  
"Right..., what the hell kind of name is Soap, eh?', before exchanging a glance to Gaz, who sniggered a little, before continuing on giving Soap a skeptical glance, 'How did a muppet like you ever pass selection?"

Then the Captain turned his attention onto Gaz and the rest of Air Troop, "So, I gather you're still fresh from a date with the Killing House herself, lads?"  
"Yes sir".  
Price then gave a smile, the first that Soap ever saw him make since his introduction, and asked, "So, how about we run the Killing House again, lads? And give poor old Soap here some much needed catch-up work".

Gaz smiled, "Righto, sir".

* * *

 **Urgh, finally, I manage to get this done and dusted!**  
 **Now, onwards for Chapter Three!  
**  
 **And thus, we are now onwards towards The Coup.**

 **The Cargo Ship mission won't be for a while, I'm afraid. Still got to get Soap adjusted to his new surroundings after all.**  
 **  
Anyways, don't forget to leave a review whenever you can and see you next time!**


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